What Remains
by GravityDefyingTrenchCoat
Summary: 'Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.' Short Multi-Chapter Fic
1. Chapter 1

**What Remains-**

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None (at least not intended)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything; therefore, I'm broke. :(

Timeline: Post-Finale of Kuro II

A/N: T Well, I finally finished editing it… I won't lie. It wasn't easy; I spent a good chunk of an entire day gutting out this 'One-shot' with my computer hooked up to a generator while I was dying in 90 degree temperature. Darn power outage, makes you miss the internet terribly. Anyway, for some info on this stories format, it _was_ a One-Shot, but it got kind of long, so I've split it up into sections for reading pace. This stories kind of just shameless angst with a little bit of mindless fluff sprinkled on top, so if you like this kind of thing, I hope you enjoy. I feel like the Phantomhive Servants don't get a lot of just stories based around them without some kind of pairing into the mix, so here attempt at creating one.

Anyway, drop me a review, it would be much appreciated. Also, no flamming please! :)

My Beta was 'Epicfailpig' and I gladly thank her for editing during an 8 hour bus ride (which I'm sure she did not enjoy). I'm not perfect in putting/fixing in all her suggests so if you see any errors you'd like to point out, let me know. I'm always fixing something!

[Section 1/5]

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Section 1- Farewell

Finnian trudged slowly behind Bard and Meyrin down the small dirt path to the Phantomhive manor. His bright yellow boots were mucky and covered with dirt from the trails wet soil, but the young grounds keeper couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't feeling much of anything actually. His gaze just remained locked on the delicate sway of Meyrin's white and baby blue dress, which had also collected splotches of brown mud at the hem. Bardroy's blond hair was also tinged brown as he ran an uneasy grimy hand through it, unintentionally.

The master had only minutes ago bid farewell to them, but unlike his usual leave where he left small instructions and an emotionless 'goodbye', this time he had left with no instructions, no repremstion for any actions they might take; he just went on his way.

Poor confused Finny couldn't comprehend why. One moment, Sebastian, in his usual pressed and clean suit, had been getting the master up and ready to leave and then thing they knew was the next he was leaving with the young Lord, unexpectedly. There had been no explanation or defending words; Master Ciel had just told them he no longer would live there and that they could do as they pleased. He informed them he wasn't their young Lord anymore; he wasn't _anything_ to them anymore. There was no mention of where he was going. It had just been a quick and empty 'farewell' to his old home, his old life, and apparently, his old servants. Finny had never seen anyone shed off their personal effects and heritage so fast, but Ciel Phantomhive had done it and done it without plausible reason to.

Finny sniffled a little bit at the day's cold air. The atmosphere, usually bright and pleasant, seemed to have dropped a couple degrees, creating a sullen and heavy tone. He didn't let the gloomy tone make him fall behind the three in front of him, only following suit as they all contemplated over what had just happened.

They all made it to the front step before anyone halted their slow march. Meyrin was the first to stop, smoothing out her dress as she sat down on the third marble step as though she refused to go any farther. Bard did the same as he squatted down, his fingers coming up to his mouth and taking the cigarette from his lips. He twirled it in between his thumb and index finger, thoughtlessly, as he stared dully at the pavement. Finny removed the hat from his head, allowing it to rest on his back held up by the string around his neck. He sat in between Bard and Mayrin, placing his elbows so they touched the hem of Meyrin's shirt and the folds of Bard's white pants. Tanaka, who had been only been steps behind them the entire time, stood not too far away, but did not join them to sit on the marble stairway. Silence broke out for a moment as each of them were lost in their own thoughts.

Finny gazed at his fellow workers and with quivering lips and sorrowful turquoise eyes; he broke the uneasy quiet that had rested upon them. "He told us to burn it." His hushed tone was of one akin to horror. Bard and Meyrin both looked at him for the first time, acknowledging his words. Bard grimaced and Meyrin sighed quietly.

"He did, didn't he? Why would he say that?" Bard mused aloud, although no answers were given from the unsure house staff. Meyrin removed her glasses and placed them on her head, her sorrowful gaze finally met her colleges.

"Something must of happened with the young Lord yesterday. When he went to the Trancy manor, I mean." Bard crossed his arms over his chest, placing the cigarette back into his mouth. At Meyrin's words, Finnian's hands made their way to his kneecaps and he tightened his grip on his orange pants in silent distress.

"S-Should we have done something?" Finny stuttered, unsure of how to feel at the moment. His bottom lip wouldn't stop quivering, though, and the empty feeling that had descended on him the minute master Ciel's coach had disappeared in the horizon hadn't faded at all. In fact, the new ache only seemed to get worse. A cold familiar fear clenched at his heart.

"Blimey, I say there was nothing we _could_ do." Bard said back, irritation evident in his voice, but they all knew it wasn't directed at any of them. They were all confused and a little lost. What good were servants without a master to serve?

A hollow wind began to pick up again and Finny stared out onto the lawn of the house. The grass was clipped and bright, having come in spectacularly this spring. Bright yellow and blue flowers had sprung up on their own near the gate and perimeter. Yet, Empty flower pots rested overturned and stacked at the bottom of the stairs. Finny had intended to plant some wonderful tulips in them so that they would have beautiful blue and yellow flowers on the entrance way. He had hoped Sebastian would have approved; he did not expect the young Lord to comment on them, but he would have liked him to have seen them anyway. Finny cursed himself at not having planted them sooner. At the thought, tears stared to collect at the edge of his eyes, but he wiped them away, needlessly. What good would thoughts like that do any of them?

"S-should, s-should we leave?" Finny asked with watery eyes, glancing at Bard and Meyrin. The mere idea scared him. He had never had a home- there _was_ no place to return to. Sebastian had come and saved him from his old imprisonment and offered him a new life. He had never lived anywhere else but in his old cage and in the manor. The idea of leaving the safety of the place he called made his insides churn. Where would he go? Where _could_ he go?

Meyrin shifted uneasily. "I don't know, Finny. I certainly don't want to, but what use are we here?" Her words were simple and abridged, but they spoke the words they had all been thinking. Bard twitched slightly in response, but nodded as well, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and irritably smashing it into the marble next to him. Once it was sufficiently snuffed out, he threw it into a nearby plant bed without second thought.

"Hey, what will you do Tanaka?" The old man had been silent, like he usually was, but Bard didn't seem to have much left to say and wanted the old man's opinion. Tanaka looked over them all with weary eyes before responding.

"I have been working for the Phantomhive family since Ciel's father was a boy himself. I am here to take care and document the goings of the family and the house; I will remain here until I am unable to do so." The words were sincere and obviously thought out; It seemed Tanaka had been ready for this day. Finny was glad for him, at least he had had some foreknowledge; someone hadn't been taken by surprise. At the moment, he felt as though he had been standing on one of master Ciel's favorite rugs and had it tugged out from under him, leaving him floundering; he didn't think he would be able to find his legs again.

"A-Are we allowed to stay?" Finny stumbled tentatively as though it were the wrong question to be asking. His quivering tongue still refused to cooperate with him; however, he had managed to hold back tears that wished to trail down his cheeks.

Tanaka looked sadly at Finny before walking past them up the stairs and stopping at the top step. "The young Lord's last instructions were that he didn't mind if anyone remained on the grounds so I don't think he would mind if you did so." He walked into the house, shutting the door that had been left open in the master speedy departure. The three Phantomhive Servants were left staring at one another, wondering what the other would do or say.

"Well, there's not much point in staying in a manor like this without royalty, is there?" Bard joked lightly, but the bitter and sad tinge to his words didn't dissipate. Meyrin remained sullen and turned her face to the ground.

"No, I guess not." Meyrin sighed aloud. At such words, Finny felt like outright crying for the first time today; it was not a pleasant sensation at all to the younger man. Somehow, the tears still remained unshed though as he stared at Bard and Meyrin- his friends.

The two got up at the same second, almost robotically, and turned away towards the door. Finny felt the urge to grab both of their hands and make them stay, make them not move away from him, but his own limbs couldn't get himself to do that. He couldn't say anything to make them stay where they were, anyway; they were all beyond words by this point.

They entered the manor, propping the door open for him. However, Finny did not follow suit. His eyes drifted to the pristine lawn once more. Watching a couple of birds land and flutter off into the sky, Finnian watched the slow and beautiful outside world that he hadn't known for long thrive in front of him. The dread of losing such a world was close at hand; his return to captivity seemed absolute, except this time, there would be no Sebastian to rescue him. He would be alone again, just like before. The world, the escape, that had been created for him would be gone.

With one last look to the manor lawn that he loved dearly, he bent down and placed his hands to his face allowing tears to be hidden when they finally fell. They were bitter tears that he hadn't felt in so long, but they were familiar all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

**What Remains**

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

A/N: The next two will be slightly longer. Please leave a review.

[Section 2/5]

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Section 2- Contemplation

Meyrin had separated from Bard in the entrance hall. They hadn't walked with motivation and they had left the door ajar for Finny to follow(although, she suspected he wouldn't). He was younger than the two them and she knew he'd seek some solace in the lovely garden he had come to love.

Bard hadn't trailed after her. He had only offered a small mumbled sentence about cleaning up and had left her in the foyer. Meyrin didn't mind, though; she had no desire to follow after him. She didn't have much of a desire to do anything, actually.

The sudden leave of her master and the charming Sebastian had come to her as big of a shock as the others. However, unlike poor Finny, she was more accustomed to this. Years of her old sniper job had made her cold and had required her to shut herself away from everything- and everyone. For almost four years of her life, she had survived without a family, without friends, and without anyone she could call for assistance. The only ones she interacted with were her rich clients and the victim's scope would meet. There hadn't been much interaction in her old life, and the sudden idea that she might have to return to it was jarring at best. She had become strangely accustomed to her life in the manor: perhaps too much so.

Meyrin played with the edge of her skirt again, realizing she was standing completely alone in the foyer. Acknowledging her foolishness, she made herself saunter up the stairs and head to her own room in the servant's section of the house.

_First thing is first, I must change out of this outfit. I wouldn't want to track any mud into the house._ She thought dully, trying to distract herself, but not realizing that her shoes were leaving behind a slight mess on the wooden floors anyway. She kept her pace slow and she managed to find her own room, entering it as though she was fearful of disturbing anyone, despite the empty feeling that had settled on the entire house. The absence of the watchful eye of Sebastian was an odd feeling that could really only be described as empty; the manor had run so efficiently with him.

Dismissing thoughts about the elegant Sebastian, Meyrin walked to her dresser and pulled out a fresh dress. She quickly pulled off her current one and tugged the purple fabric over her head, sliding into it. The full size mirror in her room allowed her to examine herself as she adjusted the dress to look less ruffled. As she smoothed down the white trimmed collar, she stopped stopped.

She had come to love dresses. Her old profession had never allowed her wear such frivolous things that accentuated her body. They weren't very efficient at crawling in cramped perimeters or scaling high places. Her old job required her to dress and disguise herself as a man more times than not. Many women wished for the day where they were not required to wear restricting clothes, but Meyrin found her dresses to be far more liberating; they had only managed to remove her from her old job even more.

Meyrin's fingers trailed up from her collar to her forehead where her large glasses rested, pulling and tugging lightly at wisps of her soft purple hair as she did so. She didn't really need her glasses; they only really hindered her. She had perfect vision, even better than the average person; she had honed her skills to shoot a man dead in the heart from fifty feet away. Her skill was deadly and her vision deadlier…. But when Sebastian had given them to her when she came to the manor, it seemed almost a reprieve from her old duties. Without her vision, she couldn't see, and without that she couldn't be sniper. Only a few times had the young Lord called upon her old abilities to serve the manor, and by then she had willingly laid aside her temporarily impairment. It was, and had been, her crutch- her excuse. But, if she left, could she take that with her?

She wasn't naïve; she knew Sebastian hired her for her shooting abilities and not her capabilities as a maid. Who else would hire a useless maid who trips over her own two feet because she wears glasses she doesn't need?

"No one, that's who," Meyrin answered her own question quietly, peering at her own reflection and her vibrant purple eyes she liked to hide so carefully behind thick lenses. Thoughts of packing briefly entered her mind, but she didn't make a move to do so. She had no current plans and was in no rush to hurry out the door and figure out what she could possibly do with her life now. The only other thing she knew in life besides the manor was her old occupation, which seemed like a grim prospect compared to the life she had been living here.

No other option seemed available for her, though, and the idea of returning to her previous, unhappy, life only seemed more eminent. She grabbed the glasses and slid them back on her nose, her vision instantly fogging up to her usual standard. She glanced at her bleary image in the mirror, capturing it once more because it wouldn't last; she suspected, before she knew it, her life would once again be focused on the scope of a lens and the smell of ammunition in her hair. And she wasn't fine with that, but she was unsure of what she could do about it.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Bard wasn't one to dawdle around. He liked action, he liked quick movement, and he was used to adjustment. A daunting war had taught him to move quickly and enjoy the stuff he had in front of him, because he didn't know how long he could enjoy it before you received a bullet to the head. He knew the mentality of war, and the fleeting amount of time it left a person; it was the code he lived by. He treated everyday like a battlefield, feeling sorry for those who couldn't acknowledge that their latest meal might actually be their last.

On the actual battlefield, he had driven that hard into as many as his colleges as possible. He enjoyed battle strategies and problem solving, but no one had listened to him back than and he had ended up alone in a trench surrounded by his old companions who hadn't taken their last meals seriously. When Sebastian had come, and offered him a job out of the blue as a cook, a reprieve from this war, Bardroy had willingly taken it. He would do anything to get away from the blood shed; Bard enjoyed a challenge, not the death that transpired after it. However, on the literal battlefield it seemed to be the only end result and he had willingly wanted to leave. Sebastian's offer had been an out. He had never been that proficient of a cook, but he liked the idea at the time. His quick and speedy methods from the battlefield didn't seem to be as willingly accepted though at the Phantomhive manor- explosives when cooking where banned.

Bard hadn't minded moving to the manor much; the place had been the nicest place had had ever seen. He had been determined in his adjusting. The shift had been a little hard, but Sebastian always seemed to have some kind of plan when dinner went up in smoke, literally. It was a challenge, and Bard continued to test and try new things; it was a job and a lifestyle. No one was usually ever injured as a resulted as well and when blood was spilled, it was usually only his own because of some foolhardy attempt to cook a presentable meal for Ciel Phantomhive.

_I can't actually think of any meals that Ceil ever had of mine actually. Ironic, me being the cook and everything._ Bard thought to himself as he sat with his hands folded on the kitchen's countertop. His right hands index finger traced over a small crack in the porcelain he had made a couple days ago in an attempt to put out a tray of flaming cookies that had been a bit overdone. Ceil had never received those, either; nothing passed the young master lips without the approval of Sebastian first. But that was alright, when a presentable meal was made by him, Meyrin and Finny usually consumed it all; he liked to try new recipes out even though, some had been greater success than others. He liked making food and devising new recipes. It was fun for him and his new job gave him shelter; it was everything he could ask for and more.

Bard sighed into his arms, looking around the kitchen. The white-washed walls were smudge-free, and the countertops were sparkling and shining in the opening light, streaming from the windows. He had washed it earlier as an attempted surprise for Sebastian to note how clean the work space was without him being ordered to correct it. Usually, he would just be required to begin meal planning, or at least pulling food from the ice box and working on the small tasks Sebastian had assigned him, like cleaning utensils or shelving the pantry. His extra effort today probably would have gone unnoticed though, Sebastian rarely gave acknowledgement to his accomplishments.

_The least he could have done was seen it… It's the cleanest it's been all year._ He griped inwardly, his blue eyes sliding from the countertops to the window. Peaks of green treetops from the garden were visible this time of year and they were his favorite distractions to look at when he was in limbo, waiting for instructions. He jumped at the realization, that there would be no more instructions; the Phantomhive servants were on their own.

Bardroy felt like a fish out of water, but he refused to flounder. He had lived through war. He could surely go on without the butler's constant shadow over his shoulder. He surely wouldn't miss the critiquing from the other man- that was certain. Still, it felt strangely empty all the same. There would be no time to cry over what was lost; the manor was a battlefield, they were down to the last men. It was time to leave the dead and carry on with the living. He didn't like it, but it was all he could do.

Bard picked himself up from his slouch on the table and straightened the goggles around his neck. His fingers brushed the countertop again as his eyes darted to the ice box. He calmly made his way over to it and peered inside, and was pleasantly surprised to see about a pound of sliced turkey. Ideas of how to prepare the turkey began to make the wheels in his head spin, but he rejected most of them. He couldn't use his usual methods; Sebastian wasn't here to put out a fire if it started and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb Finny's and Meyrin's troubled thoughts as the impact of Ceil's leave began to settle in.

He placed the cut turkey on the pan and turned the stove on, concentrating on taking his time. He really wasn't that bad of a cook, but he always felt rushed. With the young Lord gone, there was no need. He threw some spices from the nearby shelf into the pan, beginning a slow heat as the smell of simmering meat increased the temperature of the room. Bardroy didn't divert his attention from the pan. He refused to blunder this coming meal, the last thing he wanted to was to drive Meyrin and Finny away with his cooking. He had already lost enough companions on the battlefield; he couldn't stand to lose anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**What Remains**

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None

Disclaimer: Don't really _want_ to own Kuro... so I guess it's a good thing I don't?

A/N: I'm trying to be fair with the POV, but I'm afraid I'm a little biased with Bardroy and Finny… So this is their section. Hope you guys like it, I promise Meyrin will get more screen time in the next section.

[Section 3/5]

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Chapter 3- Behind the Rose Bush

The meal was out later tonight since Bardroy was solely in charge of all the preparations. It wasn't anything fancy, sliced roasted turkey and some diced vegetables on the side, and he certainly didn't want to face the prospects of setting up the main dining hall. It still felt like the young masters territory and Bardroy couldn't accept the fact that servants could use it yet. He had even managed to find some wine back in the cellar. Ceil hadn't had much of a taste for it because of his age, but past guests had enjoyed it enough. Bard didn't see the prospects of having guests in the near future so he took out a spare bottle and three glasses. He used the extra serving room, which the young Lord had never cared for, and prepared a small table. Once he was done, he looked proudly at his accomplishment.

"Done, now to find everyone else." He said confidently. He stormed out of the room to search the manor. Tanaka wasn't hard to find. He was in his usual study and promised he would be down monetarily; he was relatively surprised at Bard's entrance as though he hadn't expected him to be there at all, but the blond gave no comment. He left the old man for a few more moments in peace before leaving to find Meyrin or Finny.

He suspected the younger blond wouldn't have come back in from the grounds so he went in search of Meyrin instead. He walked around most of the house, taking his time, but he didn't see the clumsy maid anywhere. No sounds of crashes or quick apologizes were easily recognized like on any usual day. It was eerily quiet walking down the narrow hallways. His walk lead him to the servants' corridors where they each had their own small rooms for themselves. Meyrin's room was adjacent to Finny's, but he had personally never stopped by it. As he stood in front of the oak door, he felt hesitated before knocking.

"Hey, Meyrin, you in there?" His voice was loud and projected its usual baritone sound, but it wasn't demanding or threatening. However, a loud crash and scuffing of wood led way into an aggressive 'thud' of something hitting the floor. At such an aggressive sound, Bardroy flung open the unlocked door.

"Meyrin, Are you-?" Bardroy rushed into the room, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Meyrin. She was sprawled out on the floor next to an overturned chair she had presumably fallen from. Her room wasn't very large, and the small vanity she had been propped up against wasn't very tall so her decent to the floor hadn't been a very long one. However, the servant corridors all had dark polished hard wood floor; meeting face first with the ground would not be very pleasant. Her dress had folded up on itself as she lay on the floor on her side in a confused heap. Her undergarments were in full view for the room; Bard couldn't help but spare a small blush at the sight.

Meyrin groaned from the floor, causing Bard to unglue his gaze from her and move forward to help her up. He chastised himself for acting like an immature school boy with each stride.

"Meyrin, are you hurt? That looked like quite a fall." He exclaimed shortly as he grabbed her by the forearm and helped her up to her feet. She blinked up at him behind thick glasses as though she had just recognized his presense.

"O-oh, yes! I'm sorry, Bard! I-I think I dozed off for a second there… Oooohhh, I'm so klutzy." She bemoaned loudly, readjusting her dress to a more modest position. Bard nodded, looking from her dark amethyst hair and to apron. She had changed into a knee-high purple dress that he had never seen before; it matched her hair and Bard wished she'd pull off her glasses so that all three could complement each other.

_That would look nice._ He blinked at the train of thought and looked away again from Meyrin, trying to get such scattered thought, out of his mind. He knew analyzing the different spices from the cabinets in the pantry hadn't been a good idea. Now he was sitting around thinking about what matched- like a woman.

He did manage to catch the red puff of her cheeks that even her oversized glasses couldn't hide. He wanted to comment on it, but he knew now was not the time; besides, he wasn't one to deal with tears.

He paused as Meyrin stared at him, noticing his scrutinizing expression. Not wanting to seem rude, he put a hand behind his head and spoke as nonchalantly as possible. "Well, uhm, the reason I came to find you was to tell you that dinner was ready."

Her face remained blushed, but then turned to a light glow. "Oh! That sounds lovely at the moment. Where is it?"

"In the backroom parlor near the kitchen. Tanaka's probably already there. I haven't found Finny yet." He said this off-handly, but he was starting to worry for the other blond. It had been at least a good four hours since he'd seen him out front. If he wasn't in the house, which Bard suspected he wasn't, there was very little he could do, because Finny was far more acquainted with the grounds than he or Meyrin were; he could hide for days from them if he was sneaky about it.

Meyrin tousled her hair carefully as she adjusted her glasses, walking towards the doorway of her room. "Have you seen him come inside?" She asked, worry in her scratchy tone. Bard shook his head, walking over to the door after her. She closed it with a firm slam as they both entered the hallway together.

"Nah, I haven't I don't think he ever came in from the grounds. The front door was still opened when I checked, but he wasn't on the front steps." He turned down the dimly lit hallway, not watching Meyrin follow him, but knowing she did because of the light clacking of her heels behind him. The tapping of their feet to the floor created a short rhythm with his heavier boots and her short heels; it was the only sound that could be heard in the entire mansion. It seemed so much emptier, quieter, and stiller than Bard had ever remembered it being. He wasn't sure he liked it; on the battlefield, the quietness signaled new distress over the horizon.

"Maybe…. He'll show up later. I don't think he's dealing with the young Lord leaving very well." Meyrin proposed quietly, giving away her own melancholy, even with her subdued tone. Bard gave a short glance her way, but didn't stop his tread or the uneasy rhythm that was beginning to sound more like a cacophony of scuffling feet rather than anything purposeful.

"Yes." He replied shorty, agreeing with her.

_Although, truthfully, I don't think any of us are taking it well._ He thought to himself darkly, glancing once again to Meyrin and back to the empty hallways of the Great Phantomhive Manor.

Finny hadn't shown up for dinner after all. After Bardroy had set out the food, Tanaka and Meyrin had taken a seat the small table. The meal wasn't large or extravagant, but it was one of his better cooked selections. They began eating, enjoying light conversation, that felt forced in Bardroy's opinion. The entire time, the three expected Finny to smell the meal and come running from his hiding spot to join them, but, an hour and a half later, Tanaka had dismissed himself from an empty plate. It had become final; Finnian wouldn't be joining them.

Meyrin had been fretting over the gardener's whereabouts, conquering wild ideas of Finny injured or hurt somewhere, alone. But Bardroy calmed her down, saying he was just hiding in the gardens somewhere. Her worries didn't dispel, but she grudgingly took his word for it. After thanking him kindly for the meal, she left herself in an attempt to accomplish some kind of chore before dark.

Bardroy had sat at the table with his fine glass of wine and stared out the bayside window out onto the lawn of the manor. The sun gleamed off the far horizon, signaling that the end of the first of many long days was about to be over. Bard didn't move for quite some time though, taking comfort in the peaceful silence.

After he managed to down a little more of his wine, he pulled himself from the chair and cleaned the table, returning the empty dishes to the kitchen's cabinets. The pan he had cooked the turkey in and the pot of water still remained on the counter.

_Ah, my least favorite part of the dinner process. _He sighed to himself as he picked up the first pot he had boiled some yellow corn in earlier. Lukewarm water was all that remained in the pot, but it still had to be dumped out the side door.

Bard heaved the heavy pot into his hands, lifting with his arms and shoulders. He managed to get to the side door of the manor and propped it open as he cradled the pot precariously in one arm. He noted the dying sunlight over the backstairs well and began dumping the water onto the grass of the yard; Bard knew it probably needed it, rain had been sparse as of late. After a couple seconds of emptying the pot, Bard tilted the pot upright and was about to return inside when he heard a peculiar sound.

At first, Bard thought it was some animal scuffling around on the thick stone near the side of the house (the mice tended to enjoy that activity on hot days). However, the sound wasn't like the repetitive sound of claw mark on mortar; it had a small, irregular, and more airy tone quality, like someone trying to repress a hiccup. The noise was coming from the thick line of rose bushes the master had imported from Germany about a year ago. The flowers themselves were beautiful, and had a wondrous scent that Bardroy enjoyed when he come back around to smoke when Sebastian didn't want the ashy smell invading the manor. They had unusually thick thorns, though, something Bardroy had learned the hard way when he managed to give himself a pretty large cut while he had been trying to pick a couple to place on a center piece for the young Lord one night.

Bard smiled at the memory; Finny and Meyrin had been frantic at the sight of his blood and had run around searching for a bandage as though his bleeding hand would fall off.

_Well, it was my fault for not being careful… but I wonder…_ He trailed off in thought as he placed the pot on the cobblestone steps and began walking up to the large row of rose bushes. His speculation of the sound was verified when he leaned down and looked under the bush to see two dark black boots against the far wall. Bardroy maneuvered himself to the end of the row of bushes and saw the bright blond head of Finny. His head was down and he had managed to work his way in between the grey stone wall of and the thorny plants in front of him without any visible injury. Bardroy would have left him there and not disturbed him, since he was kind of glad to just know the kid was still around, but he froze when he saw Finnian's body twitch slightly. A light grating sound met Bard's ears and he realized that the kid was trying to repress sobs.

_Damn. Well, I can't just leave him out here…. But man, do I hate tears…_ Bardroy thought to himself unhelpfully. If it was anyone else, he would have just left them alone. God knows how many of his fellow comrades he had left alone to allow them to grieve in peace. It was far too many to count, and it wasn't because Bard hadn't cared; it was because he was respectful of others' privacy. But with Finny and Meyrin, a small, protective drive seemed to exist, which he found bizarre since he hadn't had that feeling with his own siblings when he still lived and had contact with his family.

He leaned in, getting to his knees and tried to fit himself in between the wall and bush like where Finnian was. "Hey, Finny. You missed dinner you know." Bard let the words go boldly, announcing his presence if it wasn't already known. He attempted to make it a jest, maybe to draw the smaller man from his shell. Bard bemoaned his fate, knowing he couldn't just leave him there, and that Finny sure as hell wasn't coming to him.

He pressed himself further into the wall getting on his hands in knees. "Alright, Fin. I can't believe you're making me do this." He said aloud, but his tone was, once again, not begrudging. He began to inch his way forward, feeling the thorns prickle at his right sleeve and the stone grate lightly on his left shoulder. Finny had, undoubtedly, had no problem making his way to the spot he had rooted himself because his shoulders and body was much slimmer than Bard's broad appearance. But, Bard just kept himself hard-pressed against the wall, attempting to stop the small rocks in the soil from jabbing him in the kneecaps.

He managed to crawl forward enough to sit directly next to Finny, who still hadn't looked up from the ball he had made out of himself. His arms remained clinging to his knees, that covered his face. Bard could see his sporadic breathing and wished he hadn't bothered; he was horrible when it emotions. But he couldn't shove this duty onto Meyrin, he had to take charge, unless he wanted another disaster like before. Abandoning a mission or a comrade was cowardly; he swore long ago on the battlefield that he would not allow himself to turn a blind eye.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Bard poked Finny lightly in the shoulder and then positioned himself as discreetly as possible next to him. He allowed their forearms to make contact, but he didn't prod Finny further.

"Hey, kid, this is a really great hiding spot. Wouldn't have thought you'd have tried to climb into the rose bushes." He said this as nonchalantly as possible, but by this point, he really was hoping for some kind of reaction from the younger man. His finger met the breast pocket of his dirtied shirt, but he shook his head irritably, realizing he didn't have any cigarettes on him.

_Probably for the best. Not the greatest time to be enjoying one anyway._ He thought to himself as he stared down the vibrant red and green foliage in front of him. He glared at the thorny bushes and he tried not to think about how close the pointy thorns were to his face. Bard wasn't unfamiliar to pain, but he certainly didn't go looking for it. Ending up head first in a bush full of stickers didn't sound enjoyable; he gained enough burns in the kitchen on a regular basis as it was.

Bard shook his head at the thought and stared down at Finny, who had yet to move. The young gardener was a conundrum himself. He wasn't very large and his presence wasn't tremendous either, but his superhuman strength is what defined him from an average person. Bard wasn't normal either, but it was a little bit more concealable than Finny's unearthly strength. Yet, as he was curled in a tight ball, he looked dejected and gave no sign of the strength Bard knew existed.

_Poor kid…_ Bard thought as he felt another shudder from the contact he had on Finny's shoulder. Bard knew Finny had a tough past; they all did. Their presence here was a reprieve from their previous lives. He knew Meyrin had some handling with guns, and he himself had seen many battlefields and crafted many strategies. However, he didn't know much about Finnian's past except that he had had been experimented on before he had come here. Besides that, he had no idea about what Finny had experienced. He had no idea what was going on through his mind. He never really did. Yet, his old life didn't seem to bog him down on a regular basis. The shorter blond was most of the time the literal incarnation of cheerfulness. This openly vulnerable, exposed version of Finny was unsettling for Bard to deal with at best, but the dormant desire to assist arose quickly in him.

With a light and slightly tentative touch, Bard lifted his left hand and laid it to rest on Finnian's blond scraggly hair. "Come on, Finny. I can't tell what's wrong if you keep ignoring me." His voice was light, but still retained the worried undertone.

Finny seemed to freeze up at the contact. For a couple of seconds, Bard was left in silence, behind shadowy rose bush with a comatose Finny. However, the emptiness didn't last long, a clear turquoise eye poked out from beneath Finny's arms. It was a reluctant movement of the head, reminding Bard of a turtle peeking out of its shell to check its surrounding.

Bard offered a cheesy smile to coax the gardener's slow progress on, but the effort wasn't necessary, because soon enough Finny's eyes blinked up at him, looking at Bard as though they had never seen him in their lives. It unnerved the cook to have such a haunted gaze lofted onto him, but he didn't remove the hand upon Finny's head. Although, the cause of that might have been out of sheer stubbornness rather than determination to comfort.

"W-why?" The younger's lips trembled terribly, but Bardroy could still make the small question.

"Why what, Fin? I came back here because you've been missing for hours. I thought you might…" He paused, collecting his last words slowly. What would Finny want? "Want some company?" Bard supplied back unsteadily, edging it as more of a question to prompt Finny into talking more.

Finny shook his head slowly under Bard's hand, which he dropped now since he had his given attention. "W-Why a-are you s-still here?"

"What!" Bard barked back louder than he anticipated from shock of the mere question. Finny's tone had been so dejected, so earnest that Bard actually did believe Finny had thought he'd packed his bag and was long gone. "What are you talking about? I'm a Phantomhive servant; I can't just up and leave when I want."

Finny stared at him, and then suddenly shut his eyes and shook his head. He buried his head back into his folded arms, and Bard thought for sure he had caused Finny to curl up in on himself again until the he heard Finny's squeaky voice muffled through the material of his trousers.

"But, we're not…." Bard froze at the open pain in the words and nodded even though Finny wasn't looking. He knew they weren't servants anymore. Ciel was gone; they would have to start making some kind of plan for themselves. Bard didn't really know what he'd do, he could always find a job in the city or something, do some manual labor. He'd never wanted to return to an actual battlefield, despite his talent. Meyrin would probably return to her previous occupation, but Finny…. He had no idea what he would do, and it seemed Finny was just as confused as he was.

Bard sighed and let the back of his head rest against the hard stone as he analyzed the gutter far above their heads. "I know, but there's nothing we can really do about it, can we? Come on, Fin. It'll be fine. We're not going to just ditch ya here, if that's what you're worried about." Finny didn't move a muscle at the comment and Bard frowned, turning his head back toward the other man.

He poked him lightly in the shoulder, attempting to rile some kind of response. "If ya don't tell me what's the matter, I can't help." He prompted, but his voice was serious.

Finny fidgeted slightly and filled blue eyes met his again. By now, Finny's lack of response was becoming slightly irksome to Bard, but any miniscule feelings of irritation were squashed at the younger's expression. It was as though he were searching him and memorizing his appearance as though he were the last human being he'd ever see again; the look of the desperate and lonely. Bard wouldn't have imagined such a look could come from such eyes that were usually filled with nothing but brimming joy.

"I…." Finny trailed off uncertain and lowered his gaze before he brought it back up again a second later. "I-I just don't… I don't want to go back..." Fat tears collected at the edge of his large eyes, creeping out over his eye lashes, but they didn't fall- not yet.

Bard looked on confused. "Back where?"

Finnian looked at him and with the most frightened and haunted look Bard had ever seen anyone give, including war veterans and civilians alike. "_There_." It was all he had for a response, but the word indicated much more than just a simple background.

The word seemed to let loose the floodgates, and the tears Finny had tried to hold back came tumbling down his face. His lips puckered and vibrated slightly in a sad little quiver, while his red, puffy eyes continued to blink back tears that obviously had no intention of being stifled. The sight was horribly unsettling, and Bard, in a moment of empathy at sudden on slaughter of tears, did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped an arm around Finny's shoulder and pulled him into his shoulder.

"_Idiot_. You don't have to go back anywhere you don't want to. You're free now, and Meyrin, Tanaka, and I won't let anyone change that." It was probably the most sentimental thing he had ever managed in this life, and he'd while thought he had come up with it up on the spot, really, he had understood Finny's irrational fear of returning captivity for quite some time.

His words didn't prompt any kind response, except for longer and harder shuddering sobs. He couldn't see Finny's tears, but he could feel his shoulder becoming damper weighed down. But, that was okay with him. As long as he didn't have to see the tears, they were more manageable. They had always been more manageable that way.


	4. Chapter 4

**What Remains**

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None

Disclaimer: Don't owns...

A/N: This was my editors favorite section, or at least, I think it was; It's hard to tell with my editor sometimes. ;P Enjoy.

[Section 4/5]

* * *

Chapter 4- Cuts and Open Wounds

Finnian managed to cry for about another half an hour or so. At least, that's what Bard had counted up to before he had lost track of time. He hadn't done much more than sit there and stare down the rose bush in front of him as he allowed Finny to let go of some emotion on his shoulder. He didn't really add any words or try to hush him, he just allowed the younger to vent on him, which was understandable; he was used to such a job.

The sun, which had been bright earlier, was now setting on the horizon, leaving them in little light next to the shadowy wall. Bard could still make out the small form of Finny against him, shivering slightly as he calmed down from his melt down. After minutes of silence, Bard prodded the warm lump on his shoulder.

"Finny, it's getting late. Do you want to go in?" The blond head shifted against him and rose; his face was still puffy and red, but visible tears were gone. He nodded slightly.

"Alright. Come on, then. Let's get out from this bush before it's too dark to pull ourselves out…" He turned on his knees, grabbing one of Finny's thinner hands to ensure that he'd actually follow him out. The last thing he wanted was to have to climb back into the bush after him, and in the dark, to boot. He flinched at the idea of ending up face first in the beautiful roses as he inched his way out from behind the wall; it was somehow a much easier experience than getting into the earthy patch.

Once he got out, he stood up and dusted himself off. His white apron was covered in sooty dirt. His trousers were in a similar state, but they weren't anything special, and he had many spares in his wardrobe. His eyes slid over the horizon of the lawn. The bushes were positioned on a far wall that connected with the back lawn. The sun was only a speck in the distance over the perimeter's monstrous walls. All the spring flowers that had recently come up clashed with the darkened grass from the fading light. Bard, who usually wasn't interested in the yard, even had to stop and admire the well-groomed lawn.

Detaching himself from the sight, Bard turned back to the house, allowing the sun to fill in the spot in the yard that still had retained color. The beauty seemed to dim out with the light. For the umpteenth time that night, he wished he could pull out a cigarette and take a smoke to distract himself a little.

Finny stood staring at him and Bard got a good look at him for the first time. The opal white shirt was stained like his own apron with blotches of brown and green. The red trim around his sleeves and collar had turned from a rusty red to a filthy black from grime and dirt. Small nicks and tears were viable around his collar and the v-neck that sloped down his chest as though he had caught it on something and been tugged on for release. His white gloves and straw hat were missing altogether and the small red barrettes that usually kept his hair out of his face were lopsided and askew, no longer retaining any shape. His face was puffed up and pink, and small cuts lingered in small sections. Deep blue clashes with the red that rimmed his eye lids. Mud decorated his features and seemed almost strategically placed so that none of his grated skin was dirtied. It didn't, however, hide the fact that Finny just looked like a complete mess. Bard couldn't even comprehend how he could look to pathetic only after a couple of hours out in the yard.

He chose to take note of his appearance. "Wow, Fin. What did you do? Crawl _under_ the rose bush?" Finnian didn't seem to understand the joke at the moment, and cocked his head slightly. The older man sighed, realizing that now was not the time to be lightening the situation. "Oh, never mind. Let's just get you inside. We'll clean you up and get you something to eat. I'm sure you're starvin', since you skipped dinner and all."

He reached to take Finny's smaller hand in his own and drag him over to the side door, but before he could, Finny reached out and took Bard's own slack hand. "Thank you, Bard." He squeaked shyly as he stared at his boots as though they had suddenly his interest. Bard's eyebrows lifted to his hairline in curiosity, but he smoothed his brow out a second later and gave Finny's hand a firm squeeze.

"No problem at all, Fin. Now come on, let's go inside." He remarked back, pushing off his act of kindness as nothing more as if he had only offered Finnian a glass of water because he looked thirsty.

Finny nodded and released his hand, and Bard allowed him to lead the way as they entered through the side door. The kitchen was now rather dark, but Bard quickly lit some candles to light the room. He ordered Finny to sit and wait at the countertops; Bard couldn't help but notice how suddenly out of place they both looked in the pristine and polished kitchen.

"Alright, I'm going to recook some of leftover, so give me a second." He lifted a finger, imploring for patience even though he doubted he'd hear any gripes from the disheveled gardener. Bardroy began to place the meat that sat cold on the serving tray back into the pan on the stove and reheated it. The kitchen remained relatively silent as the sizzling of meat permeated the air.

"So what do you-?" Bard's question was cut off as suddenly a whirlwind of purple flew into the room.

"Oh, Bard! I've been looking for Finny and I can't find him anywhere! And it's dark out! What if he's outside all alone! It's not safe! We have-" She wheezed in her nazly voice with quickened panic. However, her attention turned to the surprised Finny rather quickly, and she froze in initial shock. For one small second, there was calm silence before Meyrin's panicked actions picked up again and she rushed to Finny's side.

"Oh, Finny! There you are! Where have you been! I've been so worried!" She chattered loudly as she inspected his clothes and noticed the scratches all over his face. "And where were you? You've got scratches all over your face! Oooohhhh! Finny!" She squealed and then jumped into a large hug, ignoring the fact that Finny's griminess was also dirtying her clothing as well.

Finny, who had been pretty subdued before, took action and began lightly patting Meyrin on the back while trying to get her to get off of him. Bardroy suspected his main motivation for such an action was because of his consideration for Meyrin's dress becoming filthy with their hug.

"Ou~? Meyrin! I'm fine. I'm sorry, Bard is helping me." Meyrin backed up and her eyes behind her thick glasses analyzed him as best as she could. Her fingers began probing at the cut on his face. "Owww! Meyrin, that hurts! Please stop poking me!" He pleaded.

Meyrin's eyebrow arched slightly, but instead of apologizing (like she usually would), her tone grew slightly more agitated. "Well, of course they hurt! You're poor face is covered in them! What did you do jump in that stupid rose bush around back?"

Finny flinched, and Bard chuckled a little at the pinpoint assumption. Finny's cheeks acquired a shade of red that covered the puffiness of his past tears; he was embarrassed from being figured out so quickly. "I _tripped_ into the bush….." He mumbled grouchily, while Bard couldn't help but burst out into low laughter. Finny ignored his amusement. "Besides, I sit behind those bushes all the time. It's very cool back there during spring… and it's hard for anyone to find you." His green eyes darted to Bard, who managed to quiet himself as he pulled the fried meat from the pan and put it on a plate for Finny. He walked over to the ice box to cut up some fresh vegetables as Meyrin continued to fuss.

"Ooooohhh! But Finny, you should have been more careful!" She reprimanded, although her worried irritation leaned into a more flustered compassion. Her slim fingers removed themselves from his face and she straightened up, dusting off some dirt of the she had acquired from her hug. "I'll go get some bandages so we can patch you right up!" Finny looked like he want to refute her request, but the purple whirlwind brushed out of the room just as fast as she had entered, shutting the door with a firm slam on her way out.

Finny grumbled and laid his face on the table. Bard shook his head in amusement and placed some chopped celery on the plate. He sat it down in front of Finny, who turned his head at the smell food. "Alright, eat up." He announced as he wiped his hands on a florally dish towel, removing the dirty apron that was wrapped around his waist. He placed it directly into a nearby trashcan, knowing it would never return back to its original pearly white color. He turned back to Finny, who seemed to be analyzing his food with his head on the table, but had yet to make a move.

"Come on, I worked so hard to recook it. You could at least humor me by trying some of it." Finny looked to Bard and nodded. He took the utensils in front of him and began chowing down slowly. Bard started clearing plates as Meyrin came waltzing back in with an armful of bandages (about the right amount to wrap a full sized mummy), and a couple of cleaning clothes.

She placed herself on a stool next to Finny and, without invitation, began wiping at his face to clear off the grime; however, with food half shoved into his mouth, it looked less than eloquent. Finny struggled away and tried to continue eating.

"Sit still, Fin! I'm trying to clean the cuts off!" She declared as she scrubbed at his face again. Finny didn't force her away, but he turned his head obviously displeased.

Bard shook his head at their antics and began placing plates in the nearby sink for cleaning. "Meyrin, let him finish eating before you have a go at his face." He said off handedly as he discarded the leftover turkey, knowing it wouldn't last long in the icebox. Meyrin looked at Bard, then back at Finny, who took the opportunity to shovel a large piece of turkey into mouth. She sighed, exasperated, and leaned back, placing her towel on the countertop.

"Oh, fine. Very well." She sat back, watching Finny eat almost predatorily, waiting for the moment he would finish so she could continue scrubbing his face clean.

The kitchen enveloped into a moment of low activity as Finny continued his meal and Bard placed pots into the sink; he didn't really have any intentions to clean them tonight though, he would leave that for the next morning.

"So…. Finny…. Are you ok?" Meyrin questioned lightly, but not touching him. The blond looked at her and swallowed hard, his face returning downcast at the subject change. Bard didn't like the look, but he knew it was a topic they needed to address. He took the last empty stool on the counter top, sitting to the left of Finnian.

Finny's gaze flittered between Bard and Meyrin. "I don't know." He sounded truthful, but a small ounce of desperation could be heard.

Meyrin's mouth curved downward in displeasure. "Oh, Finny. Everything will be alright." She announced; Bard could tell she wasn't a hundred percent sure what she was trying to console him for.

Finny dropped his utensils and placed them on his barren plate. He looked to Meyrin. "How do you know? You're going away, right? How can you possibly know how everything's going to turn out if you're not here." He wasn't shouting and it really wasn't accusing, but the maid flinched anyway. They were all still for a moment as she rose to her feet, scooting the stool back silently.

She grabbed her supplies and one of Finny's hands and dragged him from his seat as well. His stool made a loud grating sound as it was pulled against the stone floor. "Come on; let's clean you up in the backroom."

She pulled him along through the door without protest. Bard followed close behind, not really sure why she insisted on switching rooms. But by the way her brow was crinkled, she obviously had no intention dropping the subject.

The three entered the drawing room together. The sun had gone down, creating a large black void outside the window. Bard immediately on entrance set himself to lighting the room's candles as Meyrin bullied Finny onto the sofa that rested on the far side of the room. The room had more of a French decorum, and much of it was lavished in furniture and wall ornaments. However, since the late master hadn't much cared for the room, it didn't contain many special heirlooms or decoration that set the room apart from any other of the house.

Bard groaned in pleasure as he took a seat in the arm chair next to the sofa, not caring as he propped his dirtied boots up on the footrest in front of him; there was no Sebastian to critique him for it anymore, anyway. He watched wearily as Meyrin gingerly began cleaning Finny's face off and applying small bandages to the larger cut at his jaw line.

It was quiet for a couple of moments and Bard entertained his straying mind by watching the flames of the candles cause the shadows of various objects to dance. His mind didn't relax, however, because Meyrin broke the silence with her tiny voice.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Finny." She said at last. Two pairs of eyes darted to meet her face, but he couldn't gauge much with her thick glasses, covering her expression.

"Why do you have to go?" He timidly asked back as Meyrin swiped at another cut. She didn't look him in the eye.

"I don't know." She sounded convinced in her confusion. Bard could sympathize.

"Where will you go?" Meyrin pressed another bandage to his face. Her fingers stopped moving for a moment as she mumbled a quick 'one second' before pulling off her thick glasses and placing them beside her on the couch. Her amethyst eyes were full of dread and fear; it wasn't often either the other two got to see them, but on those short occasions they had never been filled with such pain.

"I…. I guess back to what I was doing before. It's the only thing I can go back to." Her eyes focused squarely on Finny's face as she continued to patch him up. He didn't like her answer and swatted her hands away.

"B-But w-why! Why do you have to leave in the first place!" He turned to Bard, who had merely been a spectator until that moment. "What about you, Bard?" Bard blinked at the question and ran his hand through his ragged hair.

"Blimey, Finny, I don't know." He answered truthfully. He didn't know where he would go, but unlike Meyrin, he refused to go back to where he'd come from. He had escaped into a new life, and if he could, he would do so again. He would not allow any more blood be burdened on his stained hands or his worn heart.

Once more, Finny wasn't satisfied with the lack of response. Tears gathered at the edge of his eyes, but unlike before, they seemed more out of frustration than actual pain of heart. "Well, why don't you! If you're so dedicated to leave, why haven't you!" Meyrin tried to reach out for his hand, but he managed to evade her grip.

"Finny, we're not leaving because of you. The manor is empty, there's nothing left here for us to do." She prompted back, her words imploring him to understand that she wasn't doing this for any self-satisfaction. "Why are you so upset? Everything changes eventually."

Bard nodded. "Yeah, Fin, and we're not going to make you go anywhere you don't want."

Finnian's anger seemed to boil a bit more as his eyes turned to a darker, poisonous, shade. Frustrated tears ran raged down his cheeks and he didn't attempt to wipe them away.

"But if you leave, I'll go back to where I was before anyway." Any response Meyrin had prepared died on her lips and her eyes turned sad. The word 'alone' hung in the air above their heads like a fetid smell that no one wanted to point out. Finny's eyes fell downcast, and he seemed to shrivel up again on himself again and his hands met his face, hiding himself away again. Bard detected this, but Meyrin beat him to the punch at doing something and wrapped her slim arms around Finny.

Her eyes welled up with her own tears at the open emotions. "Oh, Finny…" Her lips trembled as she pressed her face into his blond hair. "You don't have to go back anywhere. We won't leave you. Even if we do leave the manor, we'll take you with us. You won't be alone." She pulled him tighter, attempting to demonstrate the weight of her words by her mere grip alone. "No one has to be alone…." Tears dipped slowly down her eyes as she fingered his hair, adjusting his red clips with care.

Bard propped himself up not wanting to intrude on the sincerity of the moment, but wanting to be a part of it nonetheless. He edged himself closer and sat behind Meyrin on the sofa. He watched as Meyrin gave a tear filled smile and turned her face back to Finny. "We won't leave, Finny. We're a family." Finny froze and looked at Meyrin and Bard as though he had never heard the word before.

Bard smiled back at the confused expression aimed at them. "Yeah, and we stick together." He gave a positive thumb up. Finny nodded and wiped away possible tears as he smiled back. Meyrin kept her hold on him.

They all sat in silence, each focusing on their own thoughts. With the Young Lord gone, the servants were free to do as they pleased, but with that freedom, it also brought back unwanted thoughts of their past. Bardroy had nowhere to go, but refused to return to his old life. Meyrin had nowhere else to go but to her old life and Finny…. he _had_ no previous life. With such past identities, the only way to continue on was to band together. They could live on their own…. but they wouldn't really _live_. Not like in this new life they had created at the manor as the Pantomhive servants.

"We don't…have to leave." Meyrin said aloud. Her voice reluctant, but filled with the possibility of hope. "We could stay here, maybe…"

Bard blinked at the idea, not sure why the idea surprised him. He really hadn't had any plans to go anywhere else. And if he did leave, the manor would always be his home. It had taken him in, at his all-time low, given him a purpose- and people who would support him.

"He could always come back." Bard suggested offhandedly. Finny and Meyrin's eyes both darted to his, demanding explanation. "The young Lord, he could come back one day. People change their minds on decisions all the time." He said, trying to be optimistic for once. Meyrin jumped a little and seemed to catch on.

"And where what would he do without his servants?" Meyrin replied, her mouth curving into a sincere smile. "We have to stay for the young lord, just in case he changes his mind!"

Finny brightened up at the words as well. "So, we can stay… We can stay!" He seemed blissfully amazed and Bard chuckled, reaching out and placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"No one told you otherwise, Finny." Finny looked to both Bard and Meyrin and beamed the widest smile they'd ever given. Pearly white teeth gleamed as a delighted laugh passed his lips.

Surprising Bard, he pulled both of the older servants into a wide hug. Meyrin jumped in surprise, but accepted his embrace a moment later. Tears sprung on both their faces, but they didn't seem to carry the bitterness of the previous. And even Bard let a relieved grin capture his face as Finny let loose another laugh, sounding the happiest he'd been in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**What Remains**

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None

Disclaimer: Will not own this- ever.

A/N: And here is the sappy ending! I hope it was slightly entertaining even though it was rather plot-less. This part is short, but Tanaka wanted a turn; I couldn't deny him. :)

[Section 5/5]

* * *

Chapter 5- Together is Home

Tanaka walked down the empty corridors. It was late in the night, and the candle he had perched in his hand was the only thing guiding his way. He knew the manor so well that is was as familiar as his own face. He could direct himself with or without a candle. However, he was currently in search of the mansions only other residence, so for that, he would need light.

Tanaka had lived there for years, loyal to the family name. He would live out the rest of his days on the estate taking care of it. It was unfortunate that the late Earl did not have anyone to pass it down to, but it would be well kept as long as he lived on the grounds. Yet, he had never lived on the grounds alone; he suspected the other three servants would be packing their own bags in the near future. The idea that he would be alone was upsetting, but not something he hadn't suspected. His duty outweighed his personal desires, especially at his old age.

With Sebastian gone, he would need to keep an occasional eye on the other accident prone servants to make sure they weren't up to anything (although, he suspected after their previous demeanors and forced meal that they weren't in any moods for tomfoolery). But the mansion had been quiet for far too long, his old body had forced him to rise from his writing desk to find the other occupants of the house.

He had decided not to search in the master's sections of the wing, knowing that they probably weren't there. He had passed by the servants' corridors and hadn't seen them there, either. Next, he passed through the corridor and the kitchen; both were surprisingly empty.

The last place on his list to check was the back drawing room. He was rewarded for his searching with the sight of lit candles on the other side of the hallway. Before he could inquire to their actions, however, he stopped in the doorway and was met with an unexpected sight .

All three of the Phantomhive servants were sound asleep. Finnian and Meyrin had curled up on the sofa, side by side. Meyrin had a loose arm draped over Finnian's arm and body. A blanket that had been pulled from the end of a nearby closet had been draped over the pair, while glasses and Finnian's hair clips rested on the nearby table, placed there after the two had fallen asleep (judging by the distance they were to their resting owners). Bardroy himself was also asleep, sitting upright in the arm chair next to the sofa. His feet were propped up comfortably on the footrest in front of him. His head drooped onto his chest, as though he had nodded off suddenly with no time to rearrange himself comfortably. In his right hand, draped over the armrest, he was holding a cigarette that had gone out long ago. His position looked like a relaxed slump at best.

Tanaka smiled at the sight and entered the room silently, as to not disturb the rest of its occupants. He blew out the candles lit and the room and went back to the threshold of the doorway. None of the servants seemed to give any indication he was there, not even the war-hardy Bard and stealthy Meyrin, who were used to waking at the slightest of noise. If they had stirred to wakefulness, they feigned sleep.

Tanaka closed the door, taking the single light into the hall with him, and allowing the shadows to consume the heartwarming scene in the room. Tanaka turned his heel and his mouth quirked into a smile.

As there were people in the manor, it would always be a home- no matter who lived in it. With a subdued smirk, Tanaka took his fingers to the flame of the candle and snuffed it out, encasing the mansion into total darkness.

The home thrived in the moonless night, guiding the sleeping on in their dreams and the wakeful to lingering thoughts of renewed hope.


End file.
